And thus it was that the four Ephrians and two Calders ate their hearty beef, potato, and rutabaga stew with a semblance of quiet comfort. Their corner table gave them distance from the rest of the patrons. An oil lamp flickered overhead, its flame glinting off their glazed ceramic tankards.
“How’re you holding up there, Vaydy?” Rafferty asked, his signature flippancy softened by the genuine concern in his tone.
Vayden took a deep breath as he stared into his stew. “As well as can be expected when one loses their brother, I suppose,” he said. “It’s hard, but...I don’t feel it the same way Ilain does. I’d rather be among people and remember what Auden died for than process my grief in solitude.”
Deckard’s stomach twisted, the beef sitting heavily. “If there’s any way we can be of service, let us know,” he offered.
Vayden gave an appreciative smile but said nothing more. At his side, Isla squeezed his forearm in support. The couple had always bemused Deckard. Despite Isla’s youthful appearance, he couldn’t fathom having a wife so much his senior. It rankled against his sensibilities. There was enough disparity between being a man and a woman; wouldn’t a great gap in age make it even more difficult? Though he supposed many men married women twenty years their junior, and that didn’t often bother him. To take issue with the woman’s maturity was hypocritical.
“So,” Rafferty said, turning to Deckard and breaking into his wandering thoughts, “how’d you manage to teleport?”
Everyone paused, spoons raised, looking at Deckard.
He shifted uncomfortably in his wooden chair. “I don’t know,” was his placid answer as he returned to his stew.
Evylin’s hand brushed his under the table. It sent a thrill of magic through his veins, and he fought the urge to flinch as Space took the opportunity to whisper in his mind.
“Well, however you managed it,” Rafferty continued, “it was bloody incredible.”
Thom gave a wry grin while Evylin chuckled softly. Wishing to avoid the topic, Deckard shoveled another spoonful of meat and potato into his mouth.
Isla leaned forward with curiosity. Though it was clear that she, too, was mourning, her grief had proved far more tempered. It was almost as though her additional years had helped mature her control over her emotions. “You don’t know how you did it?” she prompted.
Deckard gave her a quick, apologetic glance. “No.”
Her dark eyes narrowed. “You just came up with it on your own?”
Realizing that she wouldn’t let it go and, if nothing else, her question presented an opportunity to learn more control of his magic, Deckard replied, “No, I was flipping through one of Lord Obel’s books, and I saw it referenced.”
“You studied it?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t have time.”
“You didn’t read it?”
“Only the header.”
Isla’s brow rose, and Vayden let out a low curse.
“What?” Evylin asked, concern clouding her energy. “Is that bad?”
After a mumbled string of Schonese, Isla said, “It is not bad. It is strange.” She met Deckard’s gaze. “Jonn, you managed to accomplish a magical feat that would take other Mages years of study to fully comprehend. Off a header.”
Too afraid to do much else, Deckard stared back at her.
“You connected with Space in a way that is so intimate that it did exactly what you wanted without any effort on your part.” Isla shrugged. “That’s good. And it’s bad. Your connection to Space is strong, but you’ve proved to have no control over the amount of power flowing through you.”
The way each member of the group looked at Deckard made it clear they were either worried or mystified by him. He fought not to slump under the weight of their inspection. He was a danger to their party; it was becoming clearer by the day. Not only had he gotten Auden killed, but if he didn’t get his magic under control, next time, he might kill them all too.
“Excellent choice of conversation, Raff,” chided Thom lightly.
Rafferty huffed. “How was I supposed to know it was a touchy subject? I’m bored. While the interpersonal conflicts of the lot of you are generally entertaining, we’re going through a bit of a crisis, if you hadn’t noticed, Thommy. Who am I supposed to poke fun at when Loxley’s off consoling his highlady, eh? Brea’s not even here for me to tease about her love for you.”
Isla and Vayden exchanged looks while Thom kicked Rafferty’s shin under the table.
“I told you,” Thom said sharply, “Ilain was mistaken.”
While his brother took a long swig of ale, Deckard continued to study Isla and Vayden. They kept their attention conspicuously on their meals. He murmured something in Schonese, to which she snorted in quiet amusement.
